wiredwriter
He drank from an empty glass and the girl laughed as she started away, the avenue of her heart longing for someone else.
The time came for him to return but he had no one to take him. The mist prevented his sight line, and when he spoke everything vanished in his mind.
The car started but he didn't know where to go. Why do I always do this, he thought, getting out and trying something new for a change. This is the trouble with me, he said out loud.
He sat at the table and said nothing. A pot of boiling over there meant so much, it meant what he knew to some extent was success at something. But then someone entered the room and turned out the light. He knew exactly what to do but couldn't see to do it.